


To Dash Against Darkness

by bakuracult



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dalish Elves, Fixing things I did not like about how slavery was handled in a Lavellan/Dorian relationship, M for chapters with violence and later on some saucy times, M/M, Slavery, Slow Burn, Tevinter Imperium, Will they ever kiss? who can say, mage inquisitor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 00:41:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16253102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakuracult/pseuds/bakuracult
Summary: Kaval Lavellan had always known how to survive.It was built into him, as fire knows to take every chance it gets to burn. Learning to accept love and admiration were not things he knew as intimately as burning, but becoming Inquisitor would teach him, whether he liked it or not.Demons, warring nations, and friends alike challenge him to leave his comfort zone as he pushes a certain Tevinter mage out of theirs. A simple act of love.





	To Dash Against Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and welcome to this years-in-the-making fanfic. It has undergone several plot adjustments, character growths, and DA:I playthroughs to get it to where I want it. Kaval Lavellan is my precious boy, and I've wanted to tell his story for a while now. I am unsure how many chapters it will end up being, but I expect it to be a rather long fanfiction. 
> 
> Hopefully, you will all enjoy, and don't be afraid to leave a comment!
> 
> Many thanks to my wonderful friend [E.S. Rosencrantz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/E_S_Rosencrantz) who essentially beta'd this fic. Please considering checking her out if you like the Elder Scrolls.

 

 

> "I survived because the fire inside me burned more than the fire around me.” — Joshua Graham

 

 

 

Other slaves had it worse than they did. That’s what they all told themselves.

 

 The rags used to wipe up the blood were already soaked when the other servants began carrying off the dying elf—Lilia. She had gotten in the way of one magister attacking another, undoubtedly bolstered by their own thrall of slave blood. The death would be a shame, as she was one of the more thoughtful, advantageous elves. She would mother the other slaves, being especially attentive if they were young, and there were _many_ young children. They were coming into their first and possibly last household to work, and having someone to soften the blow helped. Born a slave to die a slave, with only each other for companionship. Many of them did not question the life they led, but Lilia always reminded them there was a world outside of Tevinter’s tight grasp. She always knew better, and never let them forget what they could be.

As a boy of eight, the course of Maus’ life was laid out plainly. He would continue to serve Magister Irian’s family, to be abused and exploited and possibly made into a sacrifice on a whim. Else he simply would be worked to death. He would most likely never leave this house.

Maus pushed strands of his black hair aside, successfully coating his cheek in red as his small arms strained to scrub the white marble. He tried to keep himself indifferent as he worked, but his chest was tight as he dragged his eyes away from the direction they carried Lilia in. Keeping his head down and focusing on his task was a means to survival.

Magister Irian stood close by, trying to settle the dispute with words instead of magic. While still a Tevinter through and through, he at least disliked ending spats in total violence. Sometimes it was inevitable. The two magisters in question spoke in light tones, the man grumbling at Magister Irian, while the woman rested a black fan to her upper lip, looking bored.

There were only a handful of guests present compared to the larger parties, but it was enough that people would certainly talk about this within the Magisterium. Maus didn’t know how any of it worked, but he knew that if there were more than a few magisters around and something took place, people found out what took place rather quickly.

As he worked, another young elf came carrying a bucket filled with damp rags; his cue to scurry out of the tea room and back into the servant’s many hidden corridors. A quick worried glance was shot from the now less tense trio of bickering magisters to the other servant. Hopefully, their appetites for murder were satisfied. It wouldn’t take long to replace Lilia, but she was an indispensable, well-liked, long-time servant to Magister Irian. If the other Magisters stayed bloodthirsty and targeted any more of his slaves, it would begin to annoy him. He wasn’t a  particularly cruel man, but his frustration was at the servant’s expense.

The bunk room smelled of burnt flesh. A trail of blood led to Lilia’s bed where she lay. Her hands were clenched in the ratty cotton bed sheets, sweat pouring down her face as her chest heaved with effort. Maus couldn’t take his eyes off of her stomach wound, staring right through to her insides. After a moment, a hand clasped over his eyes and someone gingerly took the rags from him as he was lead to the kitchens.

 

“You shouldn’t look any longer than you have to,” a soft voice said. Elias, one of the kitchen workers, took his hands away from Maus’ face. Maus’ lip quivered at the shock and sudden sinking feeling Lilia would die soon. It wasn’t the first time he’d watched one of the slaves die, but he hadn’t cared about them like he did Lilia.

 

“Isn’t there anything—” he swallowed the lump in his throat, “—anything they can do?”

 

Elias frowned, the subtle wrinkles making him look twice his age. “No. The others can only ease her passing.”

 

For the remainder of the evening, Maus struggled to complete his remaining tasks. He stumbled through helping the other slaves stack dishes away after supper, nearly dropping two on the floor. A few harsh words from an older slave left him feeling numb. When the house was settling for bed the Magister's son, Faustus, backhanded him for not folding down the bed sheets in the way he liked. Maus apologized quickly, though Faustus would hear none of it and shooed him away instead.

 

When he returned to the bunks, Lilia was gone.

 

Elias informed him she had died not long before he came. They had to dispose of her body quickly and quietly as not to disturb any members of the house, so they could not have waited for him. Maus slumped into his cot, the wood creaking even under his small weight. He missed her. One of the people who he truly cared for, and he hadn’t been able to say goodbye.

He found himself recalling the stories that she'd often tell him and the other children before they slept. Tales of elves running wild in the forests to the south, barefoot and free to do as they pleased. They had carved faces and weapons made from their own hunts and kills. Lilia often told him of the magic they possessed; it was different from the mages in the circles, offspring of magisters learning to one day usurp one another. The elvhen magic was ancient and gentle, but fierce all the same. How she had made Maus long for it, filling his daydreams.

 

“If I were to have magic,” he had told her once, “I would like to live with the wild elves.”

 

Lilia had smiled sadly, brushing his hair with her fingers. “It’s pleasant to dream about, isn’t it?”

Now, Maus stared at her bunk, a dark stain marring the surface where she had been laying. It was useless dreaming about that now, wasn’t it? She had been one of the only elves within the household to know what it was like away from Tevinter. The only one who could ever hope of giving any of them a taste of what was outside. Maus curled up into his cot, wiping the few tears that had fallen unbeknownst to him. Lilia’s stories flooded his thoughts as he drifted, flashes of dancing shadows cast by the fire behind them, and the smell of wild juniper wafting with the smoke. An ancient song lingered from somewhere in a dark forest that his mind had manifested into the fade. Its sweet notes lulled him further into a deep, restful sleep.


End file.
